Daddy's Boy
by Littleguinea
Summary: Continuing directly where the final episode of series 4 left off. Can Martin possibly "learn" to be a good father. He may have to and sooner than he thinks!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **– This story continues where Series 4 left off. I actually started this before any of the spoilers started to come through about Series 5, so I reckon I better just get a move on with it, as I don't want to be influenced by anything I might stumble across, "potential plot" wise.

**Disclaimer** – Doc Martin and its characters belong to Buffalo Pictures Ltd. I'm only playing with them for a short while.

**Rating** – T

* * *

><p><strong>Daddy's Boy<strong>

~x~**  
><strong>

Martin watched as the ambulance disappeared out of view. He shook his head as if trying to make some sense of the events that had just unfolded over the past few hours. Regaining his composure, he hastily made his way back into the pub.

He looked around frantically for the landlord who had disappeared off to find some cleaning materials, to try and sort out the mess that had been left. Martin's eye fell now upon the sofa, which resembled the scene of some horrendous massacre.

As he felt the bile start to rise in his throat at the site of Louisa's blood, he looked away and then made his way over to the bar, where he started to rummage around. Suddenly the landlord re-appeared.

"Oy, what the hell d'ya think yer doin'?" asked the landlord, angrily.

"Champagne cork."

"Yer what?" asked the puzzled man.

"Where is the Champagne cork?" Martin asked sharply.

"In the bin, where d'ya think it is?" came the man's sarcastic reply.

"Well you must retrieve it… NOW!" shouted Martin.

"On yer bike, yer stupid idiot."

Martin just stood there looking at the man incredulously.

"My… err, what I mean is, the… Oh God, just give me the damn cork won't you?" barked Martin, who was by now anxiously looking at his watch.

Louisa was well ahead of him in the ambulance and he really didn't want to be that far behind her when they reached the hospital in Truro.

Before he had left her, in the dubiously safe hands of the paramedics, she had asked him to find the cork. She wanted to keep it as a memento of when she had given birth to her son. She also wanted Martin to find a menu from the pub, so she could remember exactly where it was that he was born.

Martin couldn't really understand it, but he thought he better go along with her wishes, especially since she was less than happy with him over his comments about the shape of the baby's head.

Why was it that she always had to get shirty with him whenever he made any medical observations? That was what he was trained to do after all. He was only doing his job. She always took it so personally though; either that or she was just incredibly hormonal… all of the time. Which he knew was highly unlikely.

The realisation that he was now a father hadn't really sunk in at all. Holding the tiny bundle in his large hands had been a very humbling experience. He'd told Louisa that he would try and learn and in that moment he had sincerely meant everything he said, but truthfully, he didn't know if he was capable of nurturing a child.

He had no experiences of his own that he could draw upon. His own childhood had been a pretty bleak and cold existence. Only during the few weeks each year that he stayed with his Aunt Joan and Uncle Phil, could he ever remember being loved as a child should be.

Having secured both of the "souvenirs" that Louisa was so adamant that he get, he cleared his thoughts and made his way back out to his Lexus.

Finally, sitting in the driver's seat, he placed his hands on the steering wheel, let out a huge sigh and allowed his body to relax into the soft leather upholstery. The events of the day had suddenly caught up with Martin and the enormity of the situation that he now found himself in was nearly too much for him to bear.

He blinked away tears as an image of the crashed taxi came into his mind. At that very moment he was certain that he had lost both Louisa and his unborn child. Never had he felt so desperate. Not even when he had been banging on the doors of the cupboard that imprisoned him as a child. Begging his parents to let him out from the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs.

The thought that he would never see Louisa again, that he would never hold his child in his arms, almost consumed him. He pinched the top of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and dragged away the tears that were welling up uncontrollably.

"Pull yourself together, Ellingham," he told himself, sternly.

He'd lingered at the pub long enough. Louisa and his son would soon arrive at hospital and Martin needed to be there to ensure that they were given the best treatment possible. He couldn't leave it to the incompetent Truro staff to treat his precious… family.

This thought… _his family_, gave him a sudden warm feeling inside. But could that actually be possible? He'd confessed to Louisa that he'd been wrong about leaving, about everything really. Would Louisa want them to be a "family"?

Of course she wanted the baby, he'd known from the moment he saw her that she'd make a lovely mother and he knew that his son would be loved more than anything else in the world. In a way, that was why he had finally made the decision to leave Portwenn. Not because he really wanted to, circumstances had just spiralled out of control and it had been obvious to him that Louisa didn't want him to have anything to do with the child. She was more than capable of bringing up the baby on her own; she didn't need him, even though he had very cruelly informed her, on more than one occasion. that she would struggle with the task. Looking back now, he realised how hurtful that must have been to Louisa.

With doubts and worries swirling around in his head, he started up the Lexus and pulled carefully away from the pub.

~x~


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer** – Doc Martin and it's characters belong to Buffalo Pictures Ltd, I'm only playing with them for a short while.

AN – Thanks to Diane for her great beta work and thanks to Gill for her encouragement.

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><p>Chapter Two<p>

~x~

In the ambulance, Louisa sat cradling her newborn son in her arms. As she looked down at the precious bundle that was now happily suckling away on her breast, she was taken aback by the overwhelming and all consuming love that she had instantly felt for him.

She hadn't quite envisioned giving birth in those circumstances. She expected that she would be in the safe surroundings of the hospital, with doctors and midwives by her side. Instead, she was in a pub in the back of beyond with… Martin.

Her irritation at his insensitive comment about the shape of the baby's head hadn't quite worn off just yet. But she couldn't help focussing more on the expression that had swept across Martin's face as he tentatively held his child for the first time. She'd seen fear and trepidation, but she had also seen love, fleeting as it was.

As she looked up from her baby boy, she saw the paramedic preparing to place a cannula in each hand.

"I just need to pop this in, love. I want to give you some fluids on the way to Truro," explained the paramedic, who glanced across at her colleague with a curiously panicked look on her face.

"Why, is everything okay?" asked Louisa, starting to become concerned now.

She wished that Martin were there with her. He would explain things for her and reassure her that such things were necessary. He may not be the most sensitive and sympathetic person in the world, but she knew that he was a bloody good doctor and at the end of the day, besides the fact that he was her baby's father, there wasn't a better person that she could have had with her when her baby was born.

"I was wrong about you, about leaving, about everything." His words kept replaying in her mind. She loved him with a passion that frightened her sometimes and the last few months had been the hardest imaginable, as she'd had to watch him move on with his life. He had been distancing himself further and further away from her, both emotionally and physically.

Every time she'd spotted him with Edith, she had felt a piercing pain through her heart. It had been incredibly hard to bear. How could he be attracted to such a cold and unpleasant woman? Hadn't this been what his mother was like? Why would he want to associate himself with someone as vile as that?

But, he had come after her...searching for her, when he knew that her safety was in jeopardy. He _had_ told her that he was wrong, and this was probably as near to a declaration of love that Louisa was ever likely to get… certainly whilst he was sober anyway.

"I could learn," he had said. But would he actually let her teach him? Would he take criticism when it was given and could he adapt to life with a baby, could he actually become a father to her child… a partner to her? Is that even what she wanted? Could they repair a relationship that had never really been there in the first place? Such was the fragility of their complicated lives.

Too many questions began buzzing around in her mind. Louisa was suddenly aware that she was feeling distinctly unwell. She felt very light-headed and was aware of an unpleasant sensation down below. She saw the paramedic remove an absorbent pad from under her, which was saturated in blood, before replacing it with a fresh one.

"There are a few checks I need to do, love. Don't worry, everything will be fine," the paramedic tried to reassure Louisa, whilst she quickly placed the cuff around Louisa's arm. The paramedic went through various checks systematically: blood pressure, temperature, heartbeat and breathing.

"What's wrong with me, I really don't feel too well…" Louisa's words trailed off as the paramedic went to speak with her colleague, who by now had turned on the sirens and had speeded up considerably.

"Suspected primary postpartum haemorrhage." Louisa heard the paramedic in discussion with the driver. But the words didn't register all that well as she began to drift in and out of consciousness.

"Car accident… trauma… possible uterine rupture." The distorted and broken phrases swirled around Louisa's head as she fought to remain awake.

"Here, better give me the little one." And as the paramedic took the baby from Louisa's arms, she felt like her world was beginning to crumble around her.

"How long until we get to Truro?" asked the paramedic, anxiously.

"Estimated arrival at Truro in 15 minutes," came the reply from the front of the emergency vehicle.

"Step on it, we don't have that long," were the last words that Louisa heard before she drifted into dark oblivion.

~x~


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** – I'm not sure if this is the final chapter or not really. I did have more in mind, but perhaps this is a good place to stop.

**Disclaimer** – Doc Martin and its characters are owned by Buffalo Pictures Ltd. I'm just borrowing them for a short while, but I promise to give them back.

* * *

><p>Daddy's Boy<p>

Chapter 3

~x~

"No… NO! It can't be right." Martin stood in the reception area of Truro Maternity Unit, not believing the words that he was hearing. "She was fine when she got into the ambulance. I checked her myself."

"I'm sorry, Mr Glasson…."

"Ellingham, my name is Dr Ellingham," Martin interrupted, sharply.

"Oh, so you aren't related to Miss Glasson?" asked the obstetrician.

"Yes – no… I mean, she's my..." Martin let out a lengthy sigh. "I'm her baby's father." Martin shook his head in disbelief.

The doctor took Martin by the arm and led him towards a relative's room in the corner of the reception area.

"I'm sorry, Dr Ellingham. Miss Glasson began losing an excessive amount of blood whilst she was on her way here."

"How much blood has she lost," asked Martin, fighting to hold back the sudden urge to vomit.

"We estimate that it could be greater than 1000ml, given that she was tachycardic and in apparent shock. And as we were aware of the fact that she had recently been in a motor traffic accident, which may well have brought about labour prematurely, we felt it best to take her straight into theatre for investigatory surgery," explained the doctor extremely thoroughly.

"Yes, yes, that makes sense," said Martin, who had now subconsciously slipped into a detached clinical mode.

"Of course, the best outcome would be for the bleeding to be associated with uterine atony. However, if it is a rupture, as we suspect, then I'm afraid the worse case scenario is that Miss Glasson may have to undergo a hysterectomy."

Martin had never specialised in obstetrics, but he knew that the amount of blood that Louisa had lost wasn't good, combined with the fact that she had just suffered a considerable trauma to her abdomen whilst in Tommy's Taxi. Martin slumped down into the nearest chair and buried his head in his hands.

"Dr Ellingham, Miss Glasson will be in theatre for a little while yet. You can stay here if you want. I'll make sure that you aren't disturbed, and I'll let you know the moment we have any news," said the doctor quietly.

Martin wiped his eyes and looked up at the young doctor.

"The child, is he alright? There have been no complications due to the fact that he was premature?" asked Martin, hardly daring to believe that his son was actually healthy.

"Yes, the baby's fine. He was taken down to the SCBU as a precautionary measure, given that Miss Glasson is in surgery," confirmed the doctor.

"Can I see the baby now? I mean – I would very much like to see my son," whispered Martin.

"Of course; I'll arrange for a nurse to take you up there. Just wait here for a moment, please."

The door shut silently behind the young man and Martin looked to the ceiling in desperation. He started to go over how Louisa had seemed before she had been taken into the ambulance. There had been no obvious signs that she was in any sort of distress; quite the opposite... she had been glowing.

She had cradled their son in her arms as if she had been a mother all her life. Martin had been in awe of how comfortable she seemed around the fragile bundle that was their child. She was so confident, and he hadn't been able to stop himself from feeling just the slightest bit jealous of how natural parenthood would be to her.

He scolded himself for allowing his blood phobia to hinder him whilst he had subtly examined her. She wouldn't allow him to carry out anything more thorough. Perhaps if he had paid closer attention to the actual birth, then he may have spotted something. One thing was for certain-if anything happened to Louisa, he would never forgive himself, and if she did have a hysterectomy, he would always blame himself for the fact that she would be unable to have any more children.

Suddenly he remembered his aunt. She would want to know what was happening, and even though he was reluctant to admit it to himself, he needed her there with him. He needed her support.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he took out his mobile. Flicking it open, he realised that it was out of charge.

"God damn it!" he said out loud.

He walked to the door and flung it open. He had no idea where the nearest public phone was, but he didn't want to wander off too far just in case the nurse came to fetch him. As he was walking up to the desk, in the hope of persuading the rather officious looking receptionist to allow him to use her phone, he suddenly heard his aunt from the other side of the foyer.

"Marty… Marty!" she shouted.

Martin walked over to greet her, and she flung her arms around his back and pulled him to her in a great big hug.

"Congratulations, Martin. I knew you had it in you." She continued hugging him, but when she felt him starting to tense up, she pushed him gently away so that he was at an arm's length and stared up into his eyes.

"Oh, Marty, what is it?... Please tell me everything is fine. You haven't fallen out with Louisa already, have you?" she asked in a rather stern voice.

Martin's eyes began to glisten as he explained to his aunt about Louisa's condition. She pulled him to her again and this time he sank into her arms, as his resolve had finally gone.

"Martin, I'm so sorry. But you really mustn't blame yourself. The only ones to blame are Bert and Tommy, and by God when I see them, I'll be giving them a piece of my mind."

"No, I should have spotted something. I should have prevented this. What good am I to Louisa if I can't even keep her and the baby safe?" Martin sighed.

Joan now took Martin by the upper arms and shook him gently. "Now you listen to me, Martin Ellingham. You are not going to stand here and drown in self pity. Louisa and your son need you to be strong now, for them. Louisa will be fine and then you'll all be able to settle down and sort things out," she said forcefully.

Just as Martin began to pull himself together, he saw a very pretty young nurse talking to the receptionist, who promptly pointed in their direction. The nurse then scurried over to them.

"Dr Ellingham. If you'd like to come with me, I'll take you up to see your son."

"Thank you. Err… is it alright if my aunt accompanies us?" Martin asked.

"Yes, but she'll have to wait outside the unit, I'm afraid. There are windows, though, where she can look in on him."

"Thank you," Joan replied, as they began to walk towards the lift.

Stepping inside, Martin took hold of his aunt's hand, and she squeezed him ever so gently to let him know that she understood the pain that he was going through.

As they reached the door of the Special Care Baby Unit, Martin saw the young doctor who had previously explained Louisa's condition striding towards him.

"Dr Ellingham, I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but do you know who Miss Glasson's next of kin is?"

Martin stood rigidly as the words shot a bolt of fear through his very core.

"Why, nothing's happened has it, she hasn't…"

"No, no, sorry," interrupted the doctor. "It's just that she was unconscious when she was admitted to hospital, and I need her next of kin to sign a medical consent form so that if necessary, we can take any steps deemed appropriate to save her life. As we've already discussed, of course, this may mean performing a hysterectomy."

Martin looked across at his aunt with pleading eyes.

"She really has no next of kin with which she is in contact," explained Joan. "Martin, you are the next best thing, I suppose."

This was exactly what Martin had hoped his aunt wouldn't say.

"I can't make that kind of decision on Louisa's behalf. It isn't for me to decide whether or not she ever has children again."

"Martin, pull yourself together. How many times have you had to make split second decisions whilst you've been operating? How many people have you saved by making the _right_ decision?"

"That's different; they were "other" people, and they weren't Louisa. I don't have the right to make a decision like that."

"Marty, I can understand how you feel, but Louisa has the right to live, so at least allow her that right."

Martin reluctantly took the pen from the doctor and signed the form.

"We have no news as yet. We're trying to stem the flow of blood, but it isn't proving too successful. Rest assured, though, we're doing everything in our power to stabilise her." And with that, the doctor strode away.

"Dr Ellingham," said the nurse softly. "This way to see your son."

After the doctor had finally disappeared around the corner of the incredibly long corridor, Martin took his aunt by the hand again and followed the nurse.

"If you could just remain here, please," the nurse gestured to Joan.

"Dr Ellingham, I need you to put on this gown and mask, if that's okay."

Martin complied without a fuss; it seemed that any fight he may have had left had long deserted him. She led him over to an incubator where a tiny baby lay dressed in a light blue baby grow.

"Is that him?" asked Martin, his voice beginning to crack.

"Yes. Would you like to hold him?"

Looking to where his aunt was standing at the window, he then nodded to the nurse, who carefully took the baby from the chamber.

"Here you are; he's beautiful, Dr Ellingham," cooed the nurse.

Martin took his baby son in his hands and held him in front of him slightly before bringing him close to his chest.

"Yes… he is beautiful, just like his mother," whispered Martin.

The nurse left Martin alone and went back to her duties.

"Don't worry, your mother will be just fine and then she'll give you the biggest hug possible," he said softly in his son's ear, before kissing him gently on the head.

Martin carried his baby son across to the window and proudly presented him to his aunt. Joan touched the glass with her hand and she felt tears well up in her eyes as Martin lifted his son and tucked him protectively into the side of his neck, before gently stoking the tiny tufty head with the palm of his hand.

If Joan had ever worried about her nephew's ability to become a father, then her fears were allayed in an instant, as she watched Martin walk away with his son. He sat down, and as the nurse brought over a bottle, he readily accepted it and began to feed the precious bundle that lay in his lap.

~x~


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** - I just wanted to apologise for the vast amount of errors I have and will make when it comes to medical matters. I do try to do some research but find it very confusing when I come across contradictory info. Anyway, I just hope you can all forgive me... it is fanfic afterall!

**Disclaimer** - The usual... Doc Martin and its characters are owned by Buffalo Pictures Ltd, more's the pity! (Actually that's not true, they do a sterling job with them)

* * *

><p><strong>Daddy's Boy<strong>

**Chapter 4**

~x~

Having settled his son back down into the incubator, Martin decided to go and join his aunt in the relative's room. He hoped that they would hear some word of Louisa's progress before very long. He had only been at the hospital for a short while but it seemed like an eternity.

Martin knew that very few women had to undergo hysterectomies after child birth, and he felt sure that the medical team would be able to stop Louisa's bleeding before such a drastic solution would be necessary.

Joan was ploughing her way through a magazine that really wasn't holding her very distracted attention. So when the door swung open and Martin walked through, she gladly returned it to the coffee table.

"So, he really is a beautiful little boy, Martin. You must be very proud," said Joan softly.

"Yes, I am," agreed Martin, as he took a seat beside his aunt.

"And just think you nearly threw it all away. If it hadn't been for chasing after Louisa and that bloody stupid taxi, you would have been back in London by now," said Joan, rather sharply.

"I don't think now is either the time or place for one of your lectures," snapped Martin.

"I'm only saying, that's all," said Joan, shaking her head.

"Hmm, of course you are," Martin mumbled under his breath.

"Anyway, I'm sorry; you're right, it's not the right time to discuss what goes on in that strange mind of yours, " huffed Joan.

Martin jumped up as the door flew open and he saw the young doctor return.

"Louisa, how is she?" asked Martin, the fear in his voice almost palpable.

"Well, I'm not about to lie to you, Dr Ellingham. Miss Glasson has lost a lot of blood, but hopefully we have managed to repair the rupture to her uterus."

"Thank God," sighed Martin, rather shocked that it had indeed been such a serious cause for her condition.

"However, she is going to be very weak due to the blood loss. We had to give her multiple transfusions. It's unlikely she will be well enough to breastfeed or take proper care of the baby for several days, possibly a week or so, and I realise that might be a disappointment to her," explained the doctor. "In addition to this, should she have any future pregnancies, she would have to undergo a caesarean section due to the damage caused to her uterus. Obviously, any subsequent pregnancy would also have to be monitored very closely for any complications."

"Oh, I see," said Martin, a little taken aback at the thought that Louisa would be so incapacitated, even though he knew full well that a ruptured uterus could be catastrophic in terms of the woman's ability to bear further children and in extreme cases, it could also lead to death.

Joan looked at her nephew, waiting for him to say that he would gladly step into the breach in order to look after his son, but he just stood there with a glazed look on his face.

"Don't worry, doctor, we'll make sure that Louisa and the baby are well looked after. Won't – We – Marty!" she said as she pointedly looked in Martin's direction.

"Wha.. what, err, oh yes, of course," agreed Martin. "Is it possible to see her yet?"

"No, not just yet. She's still in the recovery room. As soon as she's been settled back onto the ward, then you can go and visit her."

"Oh God, don't tell me she's going to be placed on a ward amongst all the unwashed masses and teenage mothers of north Cornwall?" asked Martin in horror.

Joan rolled her eyes at Martin's insensitive remark, and the doctor looked at Martin with a slightly astonished expression and then suggested, "Would you like me to arrange a private room for Miss Glasson?"

"Yes, that would be far more acceptable," replied Martin, and Joan nudged him to remind him to thank the doctor. "Oh, yes… thank you."

"Fine, I'll make the arrangements." And with that, the doctor walked away, muttering something under his breath about trumped up ex-consultants.

"Thank God, Marty, that is good news," said Joan as she hugged her nephew once again. Martin was quite grateful to be able to bury his head on Joan's shoulder as he felt tears of relief begin to prick his eyes.

Already during the course of the day, he'd had to face up to the possibility of losing Louisa three times. The first, when he was about to leave her and return to London; the second, when he feared that she had been seriously injured in the taxi; and finally now, when he had doubted the surgeon's ability to be able to stop Louisa's bleeding and save her life.

Third time lucky, he thought. He was being given a final chance to make amends with the woman that had given him something he never dreamed he would ever have in his life… a beautiful baby son and more love than he had ever believed possible.

"Marty, are you alright," asked Joan, as she saw that her nephew was deep in thought.

"Yes, yes, of course. Shall we go and see the baby again?" asked Martin with just the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Of course, and then hopefully you can introduce him again to his mother," said Joan softly, as she placed her hand protectively on her nephew's shoulder.

~x~


	5. Chapter 5

**Daddy's Boy**

**Chapter 5**

~x~

Louisa blinked furiously as the harsh lights stung her eyes. She opened them again, hesitantly this time, and took a few seconds to familiarise herself with her surroundings.

She now remembered the trip in the ambulance. She remembered an anxious feeling, and above all else, she remembered the precious package that she had been carrying.

Frantically now, she looked around the room until her eyes fell upon Martin, sitting in the corner of the room with a small blue bundle nestled protectively against his shoulder. The anxiety that she felt quickly disappeared as she stared at father and son. Martin held the baby under his bottom with one hand, whilst he cupped the boy's delicate head in his other.

She looked up and saw that the bedside light was positioned above her, shining down directly in her face.

"Martin," she croaked, softer than she intended, and it was obvious that he hadn't heard her, as she saw that he continued to rock their son gently on his shoulder.

"Martin!" she called a little louder.

"Ah, you're awake," Martin replied, as he rose from the chair and walked over to the side of the bed.

"There you go," he said, as he placed the little boy in Louisa's arms. "Someone's been waiting very patiently to see you."

"Oh, thank you, Martin," she said as she tried to alter her position in the bed, but the pain that she felt in her abdomen and nether regions meant that she was less than successful.

"Erm, do you think you could move that light. I feel like I'm under interrogation or something," she asked.

"Yes, yes of course. I… err, I wanted to be sure that I could see you properly from over there," Martin explained, as he gestured towards the chair in the corner of the room.

"Oh, um… thank you for - well for caring, I suppose," said Louisa, a little taken aback by Martin's not so usual concern.

"Hmm," he replied, bashfully. "How do you feel?"

"A bit sore to be honest. I mean, I knew that I'd be a bit tender after, but I thought things had gone quite well considering and now - well, I feel like I've been hung, drawn and quartered," Louisa said quite confused.

"You don't remember what happened then?" Martin asked, concerned now that Louisa had no idea how serious her condition had been.

"Well, I know I had a baby, Martin," replied Louisa as she lifted their son slightly in the air.

"No, no, I mean in the ambulance on the way here." Martin shook his head.

Louisa thought for a moment. She looked down at her son and remembered holding him - just as she was now - and then she recalled how the paramedic had taken him away from her. After that, everything was a blur.

"Louisa," Martin said softly, as he sat on the edge of the bed beside her and took her hand in his. "You started to bleed whilst you were in the ambulance; you bled very heavily and that's the reason you passed out. They rushed you straight for surgery when you arrived here and there were fears that you may have to have a hysterectomy."

Louisa raised her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry that she feared would disturb her sleeping child.

"Thankfully, the surgeon was able to repair your uterus, so the procedure wasn't necessary." After a slight hesitation where they just looked at each other, Martin said, "I'm so sorry Louisa; I signed a consent form to say that they could take any measures necessary to save your life. If I'd been the reason why you could never have any more children, I don't think I would have been able to forgive myself."

Louisa couldn't quite take everything in. She felt sick and dizzy but she needed to know all the facts.

"Why did it happen?" she asked, tentatively.

"Well… a number of factors can be instrumental in causing a ruptured uterus. Uterine anomalies, placenta percreta or increta, cervical laceration, a poorly conducted attempt at operative vaginal deliv…"

"Martin! Instead of giving me a medical lecture, just tell me why my uterus ruptured," interrupted Louisa, sharply.

"Your accident in Tommy's Taxi," Martin huffed, unsure why he always managed to offend Louisa, when he was only trying to explain things for her.

"Martin, I'm sorry, can you take the baby… I don't feel very well."

"Of course, pass him to me," said Martin, as he reached over and removed the still sleeping baby from her arms.

"Did I nearly die, Martin?" Louisa asked weakly. The room was spinning even more furiously as the seriousness of the situation was finally dawning upon her.

"Well, I wouldn't… I mean it could have…"

"Martin, for once I actually want you to be brutally honest with me. It doesn't normally cause you any problems," she snapped.

"Postpartum haemorrhage, if not dealt with swiftly can lead to maternal death, yes."

Louisa closed her eyes and sank lower into her pillows. Martin placed his son into the crib next to the bed and returned to Louisa's side. He held her hand once again and brought it to his lips where he placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

"Tell me how you feel, Louisa?" He was becoming concerned by her pallor and he looked over to the drip that was slowly feeding fluids into the back of her other hand. She was also receiving antibiotics intravenously and so he was reasonably happy that medically, she was getting everything she needed.

"I nearly died, Martin. How can I possibly look after my son properly if I couldn't even give birth to him safely?" Louisa now started to sob lightly and Martin moved closer to her on the bed.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and she gladly pushed the side of her face into his warm palm. Martin moved her head round gently so that she was looking into his eyes. "Never, ever doubt your ability to look after our son. I once told you that you would make a lovely mother, and you have, Louisa."

He lowered his head down until his face hovered above hers and he placed a soft kiss on her lips. Louisa burst into tears then and grabbed Martin around the neck and held him tightly to her. In that moment she felt so desperate, and not at all how a new mum should feel.

"I'm scared, Martin."

"Shhh… everything will be fine. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." Martin moved now so that he sat alongside her on the bed and he pulled her towards him. She rested her head against his chest and continued to sob her heart out.

~x~


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** - Sorry, this is going down a rather depressing route at present. I do promise to get things back on track ( hopefully ), pretty soon though:) Thanks as always to my beta Diane. Any errors are of my own making!

**Disclaimer** - The usual, Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures, blah, blah blah!

* * *

><p><strong>Daddy's Boy<strong>

**Chapter 6**

~x~

_5 weeks later…_

"I'm just going out for a walk. Can you look after the baby?" asked Louisa as she walked out of the door.

"Doesn't look like we have much choice does it," stated Martin, turning to his aunt as they sat at the kitchen table enjoying a cup of tea.

"Is everything all right, Martin? I mean between you and Louisa."

"To be honest, I don't know. Louisa refuses to talk about anything. She won't even sit down and discuss a name for our son, and we really need to register his birth. I don't truly understand it; I thought every mother was eager to name their child." Martin stood up and carried the tea cups over to the sink. He turned and rested his bottom against the cupboard, leaning against his hands.

"Are you two _together_?" Joan asked, knowing that they were sharing the spare room in her farmhouse along with the baby. She also knew that the room had twin beds, and she suspected that they were sleeping separately.

"Not in a romantic sense, no. I'm there for her and for the baby. In fact, most of the time I deal with him at night; she doesn't really seem all that interested. I'm trying to give her some space, and I'm trying to understand how she must feel - after the birth and all the complications - but to be honest, Aunty Joan, I really think that this is more than just the baby blues. It's gone on for too long."

"What does her health visitor think?" asked Joan.

"I have no idea; she makes sure that I'm going to be out before she agrees to the meddlesome woman calling round."

"For God's sake, Martin, you're her doctor, aren't you? Why don't you do something about it? I'm not a medical professional, but even I can see that she needs some help. I take it you've considered post-natal depression?"

"Of course I have. I'm not stupid, you know. And for your information, I'm not her doctor. She never transferred back from Wadebridge. And in any case, I'm not even the bloody GP anymore, am I?" Martin shouted, clearly exasperated by the whole situation.

Through the baby monitor they heard the little child start to whimper.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry," he apologised to his aunt. He pushed the button on the monitor and spoke to his son, "Hang on little man, I'm on my way."

Joan looked with admiration at her nephew. He had exceeded all of her expectations as far as fatherhood was concerned. She had expected that he would appear like a fish out of water, but the fact that he'd had to assume responsibility right from the word go, due to Louisa's incapacity, meant that he had bonded perfectly with his son.

As soon as Martin entered the room, he could tell what the problem was. The unmistakable smell of baby poo had permeated the air.

"Good grief, I have no idea how you do it," he said to the little boy as he started to undo the poppers on the baby grow. "Urgh, this has to be your best yet," grimaced Martin as he started to remove the overflowing nappy and placed it in a nappy sack.

After dealing with the offending article and cleaning up the little boy's stinky bottom, he placed a fresh nappy underneath him and expertly fastened it all together.

"There, now you smell just as beautiful as your mother." Martin kissed his son tenderly and then cradled him in one arm as he tidied up the changing mat and returned everything to its proper place.

Returning to the kitchen still carrying the baby, he retrieved a bottle from the fridge and put the kettle on to boil.

"Here, let me deal with that," said Joan as she took the bottle from him and placed it in a nearby jug. When the kettle had boiled, she filled the jug with water.

"Won't be long now, you greedy little sausage," Martin cooed at his son, before passing him over to Joan so that he could wash his hands.

"He's such a good little boy, Martin. You're very lucky, you know," Joan mused as she stared adoringly into the baby's eyes. "He looks just like you did at this age."

"Did you have a lot to do with me when I was a baby?" Martin asked, curious about his aunt's involvement in his upbringing.

"Not as much as I would have liked, Martin. I visited a lot after you were first born, and your mother was happy to let me get on with things. It meant she could get back to her irritating friends. She hated being out of the social circle. But then she employed a nanny to take care of you, so I became superfluous to requirements. Of course, as soon as you were old enough, they started sending you here for the summer holidays. I used to count down the days until you arrived. It was like a breath of fresh air having you here with Phil and me."

Martin watched in silence as Joan delicately stroked the little boy's cheek with the back of her hand.

"Whenever you first arrived, you looked like a scared little rabbit. It always broke my heart. You didn't dare to enjoy yourself, just in case you were about to get told off. But as soon as Phil started to chase you around the chicken coops, you soon came out of your shell. You were a happy little boy when you were here, Martin, and I so wished that you could have stayed with us."

Joan reached over and squeezed her nephew's hand. Martin could tell that she was trying to fight back the tears that threatened to cascade down her craggy cheeks. All of a sudden she started to laugh.

"What, what's so funny?" Martin asked.

"One time when you were due to go back to London, your father and mother came to pick you up. Christopher had just bought a new car, something really swanky to impress his friends at the club. It had been particularly wet the week you were here and the ground was like a bog. When they came to collect you he got his precious car stuck in the mud. Wouldn't budge an inch, wheels just kept turning and churning up the ground like a plough. It took him and Phil over an hour to get the thing moving. Your mother had to negotiate a path through the mud in her ridiculously expensive shoes so she could pay a call. Do you remember, Martin?"

"No, I don't really, Aunty Joan," Martin replied, shaking his head, all the time continuing to watch how tenderly his aunt looked at his son.

"If you'd seen them, Martin, they looked like they'd never seen a bit of good wholesome dirt in their lives. You and I had a really good chuckle about it before you put on your wellies and got into the car."

Joan's laughter subsided as she continued with her recollections. "Then, of course, you were chastised for making the car dirty and away your father drove. All I could see was a sad little face peering out of the back window. I knew the life that you were returning to and I was powerless to do anything about it."

She started to weep openly now and Martin reached across and put his arm around her shoulder. He brought his forehead to hers and whispered, "You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Aunty Joan. If it weren't for you, I feel sure I would be a pathetic father. The only love I ever remember came from you."

As they continued to embrace, Louisa returned and opened the kitchen door.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I'm interrupting anything, I'm sure. Telling your aunt about how hopeless I am as a mother are you? Well, I'll leave you to it, shall I?" She stormed through the kitchen and up the stairs, totally ignoring her infant son.

"Where did that come from?" Joan asked incredulously.

"I really have no idea; I've done nothing but support her the last few weeks. I've actually rather impressed myself that I've managed to avoid saying anything tactless."

"Here, pass me the bottle and I'll feed the little 'un. You go and see Louisa."

Martin reached for the bottle and dried it before handing it to his aunt.

"Thanks. Not sure how long I might be."

"Don't worry; I'll take him for a walk after he's had his bottle. It's a lovely day and the fresh air will do him good." Martin placed his hand on his aunt's shoulder in a gesture of thanks and reached down to stroke his son's cheek with his index finger.

Walking up the stairs of the old farmhouse, he heard the unmistakable sound of Louisa's muffled sobs emanating from within the spare room. Pausing, he almost turned away, but he knew that Louisa was in a dark place right at that moment. She may not want to accept his help, but he had to try.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door before hesitantly turning the handle.

~x~


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N** – Well, here is the final chapter. Thanks to Diane for sorting out my punctuation, and thanks to those who have reviewed. Thanks also to Gill for her encouragement and for a certain sentence that she'll be familiar with!

* * *

><p>Daddy's Boy<p>

Chapter 7

~x~

"Please go away, Martin. Just leave me alone," sobbed Louisa, clearly defeated.

Martin stood there staring at her back, not quite knowing how best to handle the situation. He had never been comfortable with emotional patients and did have to finally conclude that he certainly was not a people person. But this was Louisa, the mother of his child, the woman that he adored. Why couldn't he get over his social ineptness, even with her?

Louisa had been correct all those years ago when she'd quizzed him on the interview panel. She had a sound intuition and had been so very right about his social skills. This made him wonder how she could be getting the whole motherhood thing so completely wrong and how she could possibly think that he and his aunt had been talking about her.

"Louisa, I know that there's something wrong and I won't leave you like this. I just can't," Martin whispered softly.

Louisa's shoulders continued to shake uncontrollably as she sat with her face buried in her hands.

Carefully, Martin sat down on the side of the bed behind her, still looking towards her back. He placed his hand on her right shoulder, but she shrugged him off, shying away from any physical contact with him.

"You don't want to be here anymore than I want you here," Louisa spat with some venom. "So why don't you just bugger off back down to your precious Aunty Joan… or better still, go and shack up with Edith in London. That's where you really want to be."

Martin could feel the anger rising in his chest, and finally he could restrain himself no longer.

"For God's sake, Louisa, when are you going to stop harping on about Edith? I have NO WISH to _shack up_ with her, as you put it, just as I would have had no wish to have anything more to do with her, had I actually moved to London."

Louisa stood now and turned to face Martin. "You actually expect me to believe that? There you were all cosy, cosy with her when I came back to Portwenn. You couldn't wait to get rid of me the night I came to tell you that I was pregnant. All you could think about is that I'd left it too late to have an abortion. Well, I'll tell you this, Martin Ellingham, I wish I'd had an abortion now; that way I wouldn't have to put up with you or your annoying brat."

As the words poured from her lips, she gasped in horror and brought her hands up to her mouth in shock at the terrible things she had just said. Louisa broke down and sobbed hysterically.

In a single movement, Martin had risen from the bed and was directly in front of her. He took her in his arms as if trying to take away some of the pain and anguish she was so obviously struggling with, but she pushed him away and began to pound on his chest with her fists.

"This is all your fault. I wouldn't be feeling like this if it wasn't for you. Why couldn't you just have accepted the fact that we weren't right for each other and left me alone?"

Slowly the fight left her and she sank exhausted into Martin's embrace, burying her head in his chest. She gripped his arms tightly, holding onto his jacket within her fists. He held her to him firmly now, his arms enveloping her as he started to sway gently. Gradually her sobbing subsided and she clung on to Martin with all her might.

"I'm so sorry, Martin. I… I really didn't mean any of that. What's the matter with me? I shouldn't be feeling like this; it should be the most exciting time of my life. I have a new baby and you… well, you're here with me. I know you would never have left with Edith. I just don't know where all those words came from,. I'm so stupid…"

"Sshhh… you don't need to apologise," said Martin, softly. He guided Louisa back over to the bed and gently encouraged her to sit back down.

"Erm…I know that I'm not your doctor anymore, and I also know that you aren't going to be happy with what I am about to suggest…"

"I sense a _but_ coming on," said Louisa, a little tetchily.

"Well, yes, actually… the thing is…"

"Do get on with it, Martin," said Louisa as she reached across to the bedside table to get herself a tissue.

"I'd like you to make an appointment with your GP. If it's as I suspect, then I think you will need some treatment in order for you to begin feeling… well - more like yourself - shall we say."

"I don't understand, Martin. I'm just a really crap mum. That's what it all boils down to at the end of the day, isn't it?" asked Louisa, a little shocked.

"Never, don't ever say that, Louisa. There is absolutely nothing wrong with your mothering instincts. What you have to remember is that you have gone through a traumatic time just recently. Not only was the birth of your… I mean our son, unconventional, to say the least, but then you suffered post-partum complications. Those things alone are enough to make any woman struggle with her emotions. Add to that the fact that I'm a stupid oaf and should have been supporting you these past few months…"

Louisa placed her finger on Martin's mouth to stop him from continuing. "Are you saying that there's a medical reason for how I feel?" She didn't dare hope that there was perhaps some explanation why she had been feeling so desperately alone and useless.

"Yes, I believe that you may be suffering from postnatal depression, but I would like your doctor at Wadebridge to take a look at you. If you don't feel comfortable contacting him, then perhaps you should mention it to the Health Visitor next time she comes round," suggested Martin.

There was silence now as Louisa slowly processed the information that Martin had given her. It made sense to her. Of course, she had heard of postnatal depression, but rather ignorantly-she now realised- she'd never been able to understand how a woman could possibly be depressed after the birth of a baby. Oh, how the mighty had fallen, she thought.

"Louisa, I don't want you to worry too much about this. It's a fairly common condition and one that is completely treatable. Actually, in some cases all you need is a good support network and that will be enough to get you through the crisis. In more

severe cases a course of anti-depressants may be required," Martin said, as he tried to encourage her that her situation wasn't as extreme as she might think.

"I'm not sure I like the idea of anti-depressants. I'm sure there are side-effects, and the last thing I want is to be labelled incompetent just because I need to take medication for depression." Louisa was well aware of the social stigma relating to depressive illnesses and knew of several people in the village who would have a field day if they ever found out she was taking medication.

"Anti-depressants are just a course of treatment, just as insulin is to a diabetic. It's a means to an end, and in your case it's your way back to normality," Martin explained as best he could, trying to ensure that Louisa wouldn't just reject the idea without considering its merits.

"I can make you an appointment at Wadebridge if you like and I'll come with you, just to be sure that you get treated satisfactorily."

Appreciating his, for once, kind and supportive words, Louisa put her hand on Martin's thigh and nodded. He covered her hand with his and squeezed it gently.

"You are doing such a good job with the baby, Martin. It makes me quite jealous to see how close you are to him when I'm finding it so hard to even…" Louisa's eyes filled with tears once again as she knew that she was about to make the most awful admission that a mother could ever make.

He squeezed her hand again to reassure her and so she continued, "I don't think I love him, Martin. How can I not love my own baby?"

He could see the complete and utter desperation in her eyes and it took him all of his time to prevent his own tears from flowing.

"Louisa, you have to understand that it's all part of the condition. When you're through this, you'll look back and realise that the way you've been feeling has been beyond your control because you aren't well."

"Yes, yes, I know you're right and I do appreciate everything that you and Joan are doing for us," Louisa said quietly.

"There is one thing we need to do rather urgently, Louisa," said Martin, unsure whether now was the right time to broach the subject with her.

Louisa looked at him, a little apprehensively and unsure of just what it was that he was about to say.

"We need to register our son's birth within the next few days or we are going to miss the deadline. In order to do this, we need to think of a name for him," stated Martin rather matter-of-factly.

"Oh, yes. It hadn't even crossed my mind. See how rubbish I am," Louisa said distractedly, as all the names that she'd thought of before she'd had the baby started flying around in her head.

"Did you have anything in mind, Martin?"

"Oh, um, I don't think so – I'm not very good with that sort of thing," he said rather bashfully.

"Well, I had come up with some names before he was born. I hoped that I'd be able to discuss them with you when I came back but then of course you weren't interested and you were with… Miss Frigid!" Louisa's voice became rather harsh once again.

"Please, Louisa," was all Martin needed to say.

"Yes… sorry. Well, I'll just list the names that I'd thought of and then maybe you can see which ones you hate the least. How's that for a plan?" Louisa enquired, looking at Martin for some recognition that he wanted to be involved in the process.

"Alright, well, I'll do my best," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"Right, here goes; Matthew, Thomas, Joseph, Sam, Edward, Luke, Connor, Francis, Charlie, Louis, Ben; that's about all that I had seriously considered. After further thought, Thomas, Sam and Joseph are out, however, for obvious reasons." Louisa rolled her eyes.

"Err, why? I quite like the name Joseph," Martin said, a little disappointed as he had actually found the name rather acceptable.

"Just think about it," Louisa replied.

"Then I thought it would be nice to have Philip as the baby's middle name. There's no way I want my father's name to play any part and I assume you're the same about yours. But Joan has been such a great support for both of us; I think it would be nice for her. Don't you think?"

Martin brought his hand up to Louisa's cheek and stroked it softly, before caressing her again with the back of his fingers.

"Yes, that's very thoughtful and I'm sure Joan will appreciate the gesture."

"Good. Then I wondered about a Cornish name, perhaps Denzil or Diggory?" Louisa raised her eyebrows as she said it with a slight smile on her lips. The expressions were completely lost on Martin.

His initial instinct was to react in his usual exasperated manner, but he managed to hold back the urge and, instead, between clenched teeth he answered, "Well, I suppose if that's what you really want. Seems a little extreme, though, perhaps."

Louisa managed a slight laugh, pleased that she was actually finding something amusing instead of constantly worrying about her unpredictable feelings. "Martin, I'm only joking."

"Oh, um, good… so what are we going to agree upon then?"

"So, we have Philip for a middle name and I'd also like to include Martin in there too. Are you happy with that?"

"More than happy. I never for one minute expected you'd want to include my name, especially after all the problems we've been having. I wasn't sure that you wanted me to be a part of your lives in the long term."

Louisa now felt guilty and realised that she wasn't the only one to have been feeling insecure in the few weeks since their child had been born. She moved a little closer to Martin and whispered softly,

"I'm sorry, Martin. I've been so preoccupied with how lousy I've been feeling that I never once stopped to think about how you were coping with all of this. I do want you in our lives; I've never stopped wanting you to be a part of my life. I can't promise that it's going to be a smooth ride, but I'll take your advice and I'll do my best to get over this, for all of our sakes." She pulled his head down towards her and kissed him soundly on the lips in order that he would finally realise that he was very much needed.

Downstairs the kitchen door opened and Aunty Joan manoeuvred the pram back into the farmhouse. The baby was fast asleep and she decided to leave him be, where he was, so she moved the pram out of the way and then went to put on the kettle for a well earned cup of tea. She wondered how Martin had got on with Louisa and couldn't help but be more than a little concerned that he may actually have managed to make the situation worse.

Just as the kettle began to boil, Joan heard Martin and Louisa making their way down the stairs. Joan noticed that he gave Louisa a gentle pat on the arm as they entered the kitchen, so she hoped that relations between them were back on track.

"How's the baby?" asked Louisa, still a little ashamed of how she had spoken to both Martin and Joan earlier in the day.

"He's a real poppet, went out like a light as soon as we started our walk," replied Joan warmly.

"Joan… I'm so sorry for earlier. There's no way I could have coped without you or Martin the last few weeks." Louisa stepped forward and Joan pulled her into a big motherly hug. "Martin's made me realise that I'm not well and I need to get some help. We're going to make an appointment for me to see a doctor about it."

"I'm so pleased, Louisa, and don't you worry yourself; it's been a pleasure, a real pleasure. This little lamb is the closest thing I'll ever get to a grandson and I love him just as much." Joan's voice just started to crack as she continued, "Right, who's for a cup of tea then?"

"Oh, if you don't mind, I thought it'd be nice for Martin and me to go for a short walk, just since the baby's still asleep?" asked Louisa.

"Of course you can, take as long as you like," replied Joan, happy to be instrumental in their healing process.

Louisa nodded in thanks and then took Martin by the hand to lead him out of the farmhouse door. Martin turned to his aunt. "Oh, and we have another appointment tomorrow,. We'll be going into Truro to see the registrar;we need to go and register the birth of our son, Louis Martin Philip Ellingham."

With a contented look he turned and walked outside. Joan smiled to herself, happy that they seemed to have reached an understanding. She walked over to the sleeping child and folded down his blanket slightly so she could see his beautiful angelic face.

"Don't worry, little one. One day your parents will finally realise that they'd be lost without each other and then my work will be done."

~x~


End file.
